


The Window Over the World

by vogue91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Introspection, Love Potion/Spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: The story repeated itself, once again.They worked for a while, then all of a sudden something wormed up in between them, like a root leaving cracks in taking home in a rock.A root. Annoying, venomous, intrusive.And she was the only one realizing it.





	The Window Over the World

The story repeated itself, once again.   
They worked for a while, then all of a sudden something wormed up in between them, like a root leaving cracks in taking home in a rock.   
A root. Annoying, venomous, intrusive.   
And she was the only one realizing it.   
He kept giving her those shining smiles, sign of a love that wasn’t love, symbol of the magic running unnaturally through his veins.   
For a while she had loved to dwell into the unreality of those moments, those smiles, she had loved pretending to be normal, as if her past was nothing more than a far cloud, destined to disappear.   
And so she went on, every minute of every day, pretending that unreality to be true, that Tom truly loved her for who she was, not because he was poisoned by a common potion, capable of fogging his mind up to the point of making him feel something that, in reality, had no reason to exist.   
But Merope, inside herself, knew she lived in a house of cards, that were starting not to bear anymore the weight of falsehood. She was in a precarious balance on a thread too thing, and she knew that sooner or later she would’ve fallen.   
She looked at herself in the mirror, but she couldn’t see her image. All she saw was a woman destroyed by her own actions, her eyes and face marked by a fantasy that had stopped bearing the colours of her personal rainbow, and were fading, becoming unrealistically grim.   
It was the latest ‘I love you’ to open her eyes.   
Not the words themselves, but the voice.   
Mellow, tender, sweet. Believable, but horribly insincere.   
That day Merope made her decision.   
She would’ve started to get out of the unreal surrounding her, trying to become familiar again with a world she felt so much hatred for and that, still, she was beginning to miss.   
She caressed her belly, that was starting to swell already.   
She wouldn’t have allowed the product of that love, deceptive as it was, to suffer the same incapability as her to accept life as it was. 

~

Merope had never took a chance during her whole life.   
And that one time, she had lost.   
World had taken its revenge on her for having it so long ignored, it had showed her in a few seconds all she had refused, with an arrogance atypical for his simplicity.   
Merope Gaunt was not haughty, she didn’t think to deserve a better reality than the one fate had reserved for her.   
Just, she was desperate, and had made a decision.   
Piece by piece her unreality had been completed, her world had changed its face. Artificial, yet wonderful.   
What had thrown her on the bottom of the abyss had been the lack of courage necessary to follow that path until the end.   
Destiny had showed her that men own two faces: one true and one false. Every one of them wears a mask, but masks can easily be shattered by a fragment of truth. For reality is the sharpest weapon existing.   
And she had been hurt by reality. Those splinters of truth that had begun to shatter her existence had punched through, with a violence she wasn’t able to stand, but knew to deserve. Merope herself had decided to take that mask off of Tom, for it twisted wrongly his features, but she didn’t like what she found underneath.   
She had found horror, disgust, and more of all surprise.   
As if he didn’t know why he was there, why that insignificant woman was in front of him.   
Merope had hated him when he had left home to never return. The last image of him she had was his back, was the heavy noise of his steps, taking away with them that unreality she had so much craved.   
And yet in that moment, laid on a freezing floor and with pain gripping every inch of her body, she forgave him.   
Tom Riddle had no faults, but to being trapped into that lying world she had dragged him in.   
She felt life leaving her limbs, eager, and her last desire was that the creature she was about to sacrifice herself for didn’t bear with it nothing to remember her by.   
“Tom Marvolo Riddle.” she murmured to a woman beside her, unable to distinguish her features. The woman stared at her, believing her mad, and Merope moaned. “The child. Tom Marvolo Riddle.” she repeated, in a last impetus of rage and in a last breath.   
She died, finally able to float into death’s emptiness.   
Inside that darkness, even her unreality would’ve appeared to be true.


End file.
